Pirates Of The Caribbean And The Waters Of Hell
by Invader Jed
Summary: In future years, Will and Elisabeth have had a beautiful daughter and settled down. But Will wants so much more, that England can never provide. Which is why he's not convinced it's a bad thing when Captain Jack Sparrow stumbles back into their lives...r
1. Prologue

Pirates of the Caribbean  
and the Waters of Hell  
  
Author's Note - Being a recent big fan(it comes out late in the U.K.) of Pirates of the Caribbean, I thought I'd write a fanfic about it. What can I say? I don't own any of the characters that appeared in the fim (e.g. Will, Jack, Elisabeth etc) but I may and probably will add my own characters as the story progresses. I appreciate reviews, but don't make me cry with all your nasty criticisms, but if you think there's something that can be done better than it has, then tell meeeeee! I'm not sure how this will work or if you guys will like it or whatever because I mostly do Invader Zim stuff, but I'm trying to develop my story-ness. Okay? Okay. Read. Here's the prologue. Here!  
  
~*~  
  
Prologue  
  
" . . . so, y'know that's kind of what . . . er . . . happened." Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl told the shiny metal blade that was at his throat, "I mean, I didn't mean to, I didn't know, but she just kind of . . . burnt it . . . " he was speaking, of course, of the incident on the tiny derelict island where he and Elisabeth Swan, whom he hadn't seen in three years, had been forced to spend the night. Madly drunk, Jack had woken up with one of the worst hangovers he had ever experienced, and the smell of burning, which, to his horror was the result of Elisabeth's logical thinking.  
  
"So the rum's gone?" Biggs asked, and the handsome but rugged pirate shook his head regretfully, "That's why we can't go there to get supplies. We'll have to go somewhere else."  
  
Biggs removed the dagger from his captain's throat, and Jack rubbed his neck, frowning slightly at his friend. "You know," he gasped, realigning his beads, "I could make you walk the plank for that." Biggs nodded and chuckled cheerfully, fully aware that he wouldn't do that.  
  
"Aye," he allowed, "but I don't think your lady friend Anna Maria would like that very much, if I was at the bottom of that there ocean." Biggs nodded outside the Black Pearl, floating elegantly towards nowhere special, but supplies were running low and they needed to stock up somewhere.  
  
"What do ye mean by that?" Jack demanded, staggering back drunkenly a bit, "Anna Maria . . . "  
  
"Aye, aye, nothing going on, o' course, cap'n." Biggs nodded, and Jack gave him a funny look, leaning into him closer, Bigss' alcohol breath invading the man's nostrils.  
  
"If I didn't know you better, old friend," he said roughly, "then I'd say you were being sarcastic."  
  
Biggs gave a pretend shocked face, then chuckled and wandered off for the cabin. Jack stood at the stern of the boat looking out to sea. Nothing excitingly piratish had happened in the last year or so, and Jack could do with a little touch of that. Barbossa and his old crew were long gone, Jack was human again, Will and Elisabeth's story had ended happily, and Jack had gotten his boat back three years ago after escaping the gallows thanks to his old friend's son, who was also his friend. Or something. Anyway, Jack was bored and sober, neither of which he wanted to be.  
  
"Mijjiky woah boy, mijjiky wee boy, mijiky woah a wee laddie for meeeee," Jack sang, improvising, and didn't notice Anna Maria, an old flame, come up behind him. For three years Jack had resisted her, because she had a mean slap if he did something wrong. Jack Sparrow was often the victim of women's slaps, sometimes more deserved than others. What he had done with Anna Maria before had been unacceptable and wouldn't expect her to take him back. He wasn't so worried about that now, he just wanted some more treasure, food . . . and rum. Thinking on it, Jack wouldn't mind some tobacco either.  
  
"Elisabeth, it would never have worked between us. Will . . . I like your hat. Gentlemen, you will remember this as the day that - aaaaargh!" were the last things his old friends and enemies had heard him say before he had fallen into the water a little prematurely, and found the Black Pearl and the old crew ready to take him on again as Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
Now standing at the helm, Jack started playing with the wheel, making "brrrrm brrrm" sounds to amuse himself for a while. Suddenly, he had the inspiration to raid the nearest harbour, Plymouth Harbour. It was such a good idea that he almost thought he had thought of it himself, which he had. Now that Jack was confused, he felt they should get there as soon as possible. In a wave of order to change the course, Jack followed his instincts and gave a little swagger backwards as the ship turned around.  
  
"OI!" he yelled, "Careful! That's my ship you're turnin'!" then realised he was turning it, and was confused again.  
  
~*~  
  
Kissing his wife and daughter lightly on the forehead lovingly, Will Turner backed out of the door, keeping his eyes on his young family for as long as possible, before Elisabeth laughed aloud and ordered him out. Whistling to himself, he returned to his work as a blacksmith, leaving Elisabeth with their two year old intelligent daughter Lily in the nice house her father and Will had bought together. Elisabeth fondled her daughter's hair, sad that her husband never had the excitement he still longed for all his life, even after meeting Jack Sparrow and Barbossa three years ago on the Black Pearl mystery.  
  
"Papa gone workee!" Lily told her mother cleverly, and Elisabeth nodded.  
  
"Yes. Papa gone to work. He'll be back tonight, Lily-Flower. And he'll tuck you up in bed after we've all had dinner." She replied, and, happy with this information, the young girl ran off to play in the garden with her wild hair she had inherited from her father, that blew long down to her waist and could be tangled with the greatest ease, but combed with the greatest difficulty.  
  
Yes, they were happy enough, but both Elisabeth and Will were bored, and though content at the moment, Elisabeth feared Lily too may grow up bored, like Elisabeth had as a girl, except seeing pirates and meeting Will for the first time.  
  
Sighing, Elisabeth looked out of the window past her daughter playing in the garden and further down to the harbour about a hundred yards away in their new home in the fort at Plymouth.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N : Ooooooo! Guess who they're going to meet again, then? But under what circumstances? Dun dun duuun! Woo how did that work remember guys I'm just starting so no eating me please ! *looks down at person chewing on her arm* I said no eating me! Sorry, but it's not Julie Season! Ya, that's right, just keep walking!  
  
Okay. Ummm, review, please? Please? Or if you want, or whatever, man. Um, bai! 


	2. Diary of a BlacksmithPirate

Pirates of the Caribbean  
and the Waters of Hell  
  
Author's Note - Okay, so here is the official first chapter, guys. The first one was a prologue, an introductory chapter or something. I don't own any of the characters seen in the movie Pirates of the Caribbean and the Curse of the Black Pearl, bla bla, there now you can't sue me! HAHAHHAHAHA! Just to let you know, I'm crazy, Scottish, Zim-obsessed, Nirvana-obsessed, and crazy. Okay? Okaay. Now, on with what you want to know, or don't, or whatever. Here is . . . the next thingie!  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter One - Diary of a Blacksmith/Pirate.  
  
~Will~  
  
" . . . Clink, clink, clink, clink, goes the iron," I sang to himself as I hit the white hot iron with my hammer, moulding the dagger I had been working on all week. It was made of a special alloy that had been sold to me by an old beggar woman in the streets last month, saying it was made of an impenetrable force and it would be good for me. Why she thought it would be good for me was a mystery but it looked nice anyway. It took a long time to heat up and was tough. It wouldn't shatter, but whether it was invincible or not was yet to be tested.  
  
The dagger was to be for Elisabeth's father's fifty-sixth birthday next week, and I was putting my all into it at the moment because I had bought the most perfect handle for it that I was anxious to try out. But it was almost finished and by the end of the day my knife was finished, and all I had to get now was a sheath. The handle fitted perfectly onto the blade and it looked great if I do say so myself, and I was tempted to keep it for myself because it looked so solid yet it was extremely light. The grip fit my hand perfectly and I had to bite my lip to avoid the will to hide it away for myself.  
  
God, what was I becoming? Was I so incredibly bored that I was excited by a mere piece of weaponry? The simple answer that came immediately was yes, of course I was, it was a damned nice dagger, but it was for Mr Swann and that was where it would go. Maybe that woman had more that I could buy and make my own with it. But even if she had some more, which I doubted, I didn't think it could ever be as perfect as this one. As I passed the leather shop, where I was going to get my sheath, one in particular caught my eye. It was black leather, and it slid onto the belt and looked such fine quality and so elegant that I knew I had found the final piece for my present to my father-in-law, who always seemed to be a little distant with Elisabeth these days, so I wondered if perhaps this might build some bridges.  
  
I pointed out the sheath to the shopkeeper, Mr Borley, who gave me a grim smile and asked to see the dagger I would be using for it. I pulled it out of my own tattered, dirty brown leather sheath and handed it to him. Mr Borley's eyes shone interestingly as he surveyed my dagger's blade, and held it by the handle, tossing it up into the air and catching it again a couple of times before sliding it into the sheath to check it was the right size. He gave a little interested nod and smiled with the corner of his mouth at me before sliding the dagger back across the table.  
  
"For the Governor, I presume, Mr Turner?" he predicted eloquently in his soft Welsh accent, before nodding again at the sheath, which he slid across the table to me and I took it, putting it in my sack full of the grocery shopping I had done earlier. Oh, dull, dull, dull was my life at the moment. My rays of sunshine were Lily and Elisabeth, who made it all worth while, but there was always something else, some longing I have for adventure that I know I can have, not now anyway. So I have to make do, and despite my boredom I live well, it's the kind of life most people would be very content to live by. And I am content . . . just not enough.  
  
I handed the man a few coins and asked if it was enough, and Mr Borley replied that it was plenty. I thanked him and slung the sack over my shoulder, the dagger back in my tattered sheath (I wanted it to be mine for as long as possible) and headed home at last after a long day of finishing off my dagger . . . no, Mr Swann's dagger . . . oh well.  
  
~*~  
  
When I got home, Elisabeth was up in our room brushing Lily's hair before our housekeeper announced dinner. We didn't have many servants, and we didn't treat them like servants, we had Mrs Rewick the housekeeper and Lily's nanny when Elisabeth and I were out, Freddie Gingro the cook and his apprentice Bernard, a clumsy young lad of fourteen, and lastly, Trudy, the maid, a quiet young eighteen year old that occasionally did the shopping, but I preferred to do it because it was convenient to do during my break at work. Elisabeth, however, I know longs to work so she can do her bit for the family, but she was the Governor's daughter and had a young child after all, and that meant she could not work. But she does her bit for the family in ways she doesn't know, but I don't know what I'd do without her, I really don't. We've been together for three years, and we've never lost any love for each other. If we have an argument we always end up laughing about it within five minutes, and Lily just makes our family perfect, she's so lively and intelligent for a two-year-old.  
  
When she saw my reflection in the mirror, she gave a happy squeal and leaped out of the chair, the hairbrush still in her long mousy tresses that I removed carefully during the embrace. When she released me, she ran downstairs to see the sack I always brought back from work, and was soon running back up the stairs to interrupt me and Elisabeth hugging holding out the black leather sheath.  
  
"Will!" Elisabeth said to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I turned round to face Lily, who was out of breath from the effort of running with her little legs. She was staring up at me with my eyes, deep brown, that seemed to suit her more than me. She was very beautiful, like her mother, but had my eyes and hair, which hung scraggly against her waist. "Will, that's lovely! What . . . what's it for?"  
  
I grinned at Elisabeth, my Elisabeth, my beautiful, beautiful wife. I took the dagger from out of my sheath and handed it to her. She ran her long fingers along the flat of the blade, fascinated by the metal that appeared silver in some lights, copper in others. She murmured "Oh Will, it's beautiful, he'll love it . . . " and then she sheathed the dagger, put it on our bedside table and smiled at me, returning to my side and giving me a big kiss. Lily made a "yucky!" noise and I laughed.  
  
We were happy, I knew. I wasn't an ungrateful fool, or maybe I was. If I was then I was disappointed in myself because I had a wonderful family . . . if only there was some kind of way to mingle it with adventure, something both me and my wife longed for so much.  
  
~*~  
  
There was no adventure here, in Plymouth, I realised, lying in my bed that night after our bellies were full and Lily was tucked up in bed sleeping, and Elisabeth was dozing off, and I was looking at the dagger lying to my left, looking so desirably perfect, like Elisabeth. I thought of what an old friend by the name of Jack Sparrow would say to a dagger like that. I smiled as I thought of what he said.  
  
But I couldn't think any more on that right now, because my daughter was screaming "FIRE! FIRE! MUMMY! DADDY!" and me and Elisabeth were running, and I had the dagger in my hand without realizing it, still in the sheath, and we were trapped, the fire was blocking all the exits and everything was so hot and I could smell blood and it was so horribly distinctively clear and I was so scared and Elisabeth was whispering in my ear but I couldn't hear what she was saying and Lily was screaming so terribly and I felt my lungs weighing me down and I felt myself fall down on the floor and Elisabeth started screaming my name and I still had the dagger in my hand and I tried to say "I love you" but my mouth wouldn't let me and I couldn't see and there was so much smoke . . . and Lily was still screaming and crying and I tried to calm her down but I couldn't, and, and, and, and, and, and . . . and . . . an . . . a. . .  
  
~Jack~  
  
My day started well, which was a first, 'cos normally my day starts with a gunshot or someone tipping me out of my hammock when I'm sleeping or splashing water on my face because I've slept in too bloody late. Too bloody late?!? I'm the bloody Captain, for Christ's sake! I'll show them . . . but anyway, today my day started well because the crew was in a good mood, 'cos we were going on our first raid in a long, long bloody time.  
  
We were hungry for food, hungry (or thirsty, whatever) for rum, hungry for blood, hungry for fire, hungry for terror . . . we were bloody pirates, after all, I mean. What kind of pirates are we if we follow some kind of damned Robin bloody Hood regime? I mean . . . we wouldn't be pirates, would we? We'd be backwards pirates! You know . . . setarips . . . or something . . .  
  
So that's what I said to them that night, before we went out, I said we were pirates and we shouldn't feel guilty of people dying, because that was inevitable really. A shame maybe 'cos that meant less people to rob next time but we were doing our . . . illegal job, maybe, but it was still a job as far as I was concerned, and my job was to be a pirate. And to be a pirate, the job is . . . to . . . steal and kill and rob and seek treasure and things. Well I knew what I meant, and that's what I said to them!  
  
I told them to get as many barrels of rum as they could roll, as many loaves of bread and baskets of fruit and the like as they could gather, burn as many buildings as was bloody possible and then run as fast as they bloody well could back to the boat without being sunk by the defenses. It sounded good to me, and it sounded bloody good to them 'cos they cheered and we left the ship in little rowing boats, me standing at the helm looking very important, but I admit I almost slipped and fell in the water. It was the drunken swagger that saved me, I tells ya.  
  
~*~  
  
Bloody Hell this port was big. I set foot on the pier first, and of course the guards were ready to ask what the Hell we were there for, and we grinned and surrounded them, and we told them exactly what we were bloody well here for. Those guards had a nice midnight swim. It was late to start a raid, but we'd only be a couple of hours because after that was when reinforcements arrived and that would be bad news even for Captain Jack Sparrow's crew, that's what I say. I may be a pirate but I'm not stupid, although I'm sure Biggs and Ana Maria would put that up for debate.  
  
As a tradition, I set fire to the first building, I stuck my hand holding a fiery torch into a large house's open window (pretty stupid really) and set fire to the curtains. I heard some panicky screams within seconds and set off with a bounce in my step for the nearest weaponry store, we needed some more gunpowder and a couple more guns and daggers. Daggers, ah, I'd been trying to teach the crew as a bit of Sunday practice to climb the mast with a dagger in the mouth.  
  
Of course, with some of the bloody numbskulls I have aboard the Black Pearl they tried to talk to one another while they had the damned knives in their mouths! Well, we didn't see those blades ever again, thus knew daggers were needed and that was that.  
  
I love the panic. I love watching my crew rolling barrels of precious rum and running with sacks of bread and fruit and wheat and vegetables and all sorts of food heading back towards the ship. By then I had a big sack full of daggers and guns and heavy gunpowder, which weighed me down a bit, so I had a new crew member, twenty-six year old Tom Darryl, a wily character with a good sense of humour and a patch over his eye. Whether he actually needed it or not only I knew, as no one else would ask him, he was always so unpredictable in his actions, which was why he was my right hand man. Well, second right hand man, because Biggs was my first mate after all, but to be honest I liked that young lad better.  
  
He was fast, witty, cunning and good with a sword. He was very good at getting me out of a fix with Ana Maria because he was charming and handsome, or so I'm told, which can calm her down and save my precious bottom. He was with me, keeping an eye out for some men that might come and take down the great Captain Jack Sparrow, while I carried this dirty great big bag of ammunition.  
  
We were heading back to the boat, about fifty metres or so from the rowing boats that had to hide in the shadows to avoid being hit by the town's poor defences, when I heard a child screaming from inside a huge rich person's house. I paused, looking up at the building with a lump in my throat, but not knowing in the bloody slightest why. Darryl noticed I was lagging behind and ran backwards to me, cutting a guard's throat expertly when he attacked him. He pulled at my coat sleeve, dusty with all the filth falling off the burning building. I swallowed, but there was no saliva in my mouth to swallow with.  
  
"There's a child in there, Darryl," I murmured, and he nodded, moving his hand up to my shoulder and trying to tug, but it was easy to see he was getting anxious about getting back. I knew as well as he did that we would be left behind if we had to be, "A young child . . . a baby."  
  
"Aye, cap'n," Darryl agreed, still trying to pull me away, "but this is a massacre, sir. You can't expect just guards to get killed, it's gotta be civilians too, men, women, even children. We're pirates, sir. That's the cold truth of it," he said wisely, and I nodded. I knew he was right, I had made that rule. Everyone gets hurt. I wondered how many men of my own I'd lost.  
  
"I know . . . " I said, staggering back a little, then before I knew what I was doing I dropped the sack and kicked the ruined door down, doubting very much that if it hadn't been burning down I wouldn't have been able to kick it down and then looked a bit stupid in front of a very respected guy, but I did. I stood being proud of myself for a moment and then followed the screaming upstairs, Darryl calling after me, hearing his boots on the marble floor after me.  
  
I was faster and got into the room the screaming had come from. It had stopped by the time I got there, but I was there in time, barging into a smoke-filled room with three figures on the ground.  
  
I stood staring at them, vaguely familiar but not being able to place them. Darryl came up behind me and took me by the shoulder again, the sack in his hands. Another crew member, Rhuaraidh Stirling, a Scottish boy that was known to curse every three words was with him. He took the sack from Darryl as we stooped to turn the unconscious figures over onto their backs.  
  
I gave a little gasp and stepped back, but Darryl was bent over the woman, looking fascinated. I knew her face. I knew the man's face lying next to her. But the little girl in Elisabeth Turner's arms I presumed was their daughter was exactly the way I had imagined their child to be.  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note : Was that any good? Please review and let me know, sorry it's been ages since I updated but y'know, stuff to do, boring exam prelims to study for. Dull, boring, boring! Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. Mmyep. Anyway in the meantime feel like to review like the geese you are! 


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